Silent Night - A Christmas Story
by fujoshisx2
Summary: UsUk AU in which Alfred and Arthur meet in a hospital in Manhattan. From complete strangers to soul mates they discovered that there is more to live, but the last time they meet will be on Christmas Eve. UsUk, PruCan mentioned.


**_Silent Night - A Christmas Story_**

A few days ago, Mattie had unfortunately broke his right arm during an ice hockey practice. And that was how I met Arthur Kirkland, another guy who was staying in Mattie's hospital ward.

He was a man of few words, according to my twin brother. And he was. He never talked unless he was spoken to; and sometimes even if he was, he wouldn't bother to reply.

Arthur Kirkland seemed fairly young, but he had skin as white as a blank sheet of paper and lips without the color of blood. He looked like he was already dead. And somehow managed to return to the world looking alive.

It was nearly December and they had already started putting up decorations even though there was still about thirty days until Christmas. They even managed to fit in a small Christmas tree on every floor. Of course, with Mattie's Christmas spirits, he asked me to bring in a bunch of festive ornaments for him to hang around his bed. That was how enthusiastic he was about that particular day.

"You're definitely gonna get out of here before Christmas anyway," I told him, sticking those fake crystal balls all over the frame of his bed.

"Some decorations won't hurt," he retorted. I simply shrugged and returned to decorating the surroundings of his bed.

Arthur Kirkland rarely had any visitors according to my observations. I came by to bring Mattie his dinner everyday after college ended, because he just loved our mom's cooking so much and it was true that the food they served in the canteen was disgusting. Arthur Kirkland's curtains around his bed were always shut, except for the times when the nurses came to give him his pills and took his body temperature. I did not even know what kind of sickness he had, to be honest. It was obviously not contagious, since they allowed him to move to the regular sized shared ward.

"Hey, Mattie," I asked my brother one day. "Have you ever talked to that Arthur Kirkland?"

"What, you mean the British man next to my bed?" Mattie looked at me in surprise. "I did, but only once. Why ask?"

"It seems like he is quite…alone, isn't it?"

"Hmm," Mattie only hummed thoughtfully but never gave me a straight answer.

One night when I arrived at the room at around 8pm, I saw a redhead standing beside Arthur Kirkland with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. They were not talking loudly, but it was clear that they were not at good terms at that moment. I quickly walked across the ward and found Mattie asleep on his bed. So I moved my usual spot to a corner which was nearest to Arthur Kirkland's bed to listen to their conversation.

The redhead looked like a business man with his black briefcase and formal suit. He was holding some kind of document and showing it to the patient in front of him.

"…sign it and we will get out of this together," the redhead said in a fairly thick accent; I couldn't make out which one it was. "Isn't that what you want?"

"No, Alistair," Arthur Kirkland sighed and replied in a soft voice. "That is what you and everyone else want, but not what I want."

There was a moment of silence with tension lingering between the two men. I decided to keep my head down and pretended I was talking to Mattie, who was already asleep.

"It is quite late," the redhead named Alistair stated, his tone changing into ice cold. "I better go now."

Arthur Kirkland did not say anything as his visitor stood up from his chair and walked out of the door. I listened carefully, and it almost seemed like he was holding back a sob.

"Al, I really don't think that you should get into his business," Mattie told me for the five hundredth time. "I mean, you have no idea what happened to him. It may not be something that you can understand. And he may not want to talk to you either."

"I'm just curious, okay?" I sighed. "Look, no matter what, I _will_ talk to him. It's almost Christmas and it's just not fair that he has to spend his alone."

"I never knew that you are such a considerate person," Mattie said quietly. I pretended that I did not hear him.

So I stood up with a box of homemade cookies in my hand made by my grandmother. It filled me up so much and Mattie wasn't supposed to eat much, so I was planning to give the rest of them to Arthur Kirkland - as a kind gesture.

He was on his bed reading a book, the curtain hanging half-opened, allowing me to read the title of the small paperback in his hands-

_A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens_

I told myself to man up and approached him slowly. He didn't notice me at all until I opened my mouth.

"Uh, hey," I greeted him awkwardly. He looked up from his book and saw me, his expression indifferent. His eyes were bright green but the lights were missing in them; I tried to overlook the fact that he apparently had overgrown eyebrows, because he would actually be quite good looking without them.

"Can I help you?" he asked. It was a polite question, but irritation filled his voice.

"I-uh-just…" I stuttered, handing out the cookie box to him. "This is for you."

He looked taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"This is for you, Mr. Kirkland," I said again, using 'Mr.' even if he was probably only a few years older than me. Since he was British, he must liked to be called one by someone younger.

"Why?" he simply inquired.

I smiled nervously and said, "Because we want to share some of our Christmas with you."

He continued to stare at me, but this time I saw a hint of laughter in the corner of his lips.

"Why don't you give this to that boy instead?" he pointed across his bed to the teenager with white hair named Emil Steilsson. He was almost as pale as Arthur, and he was so shy that he didn't even speak to anyone else in the ward. But I have to admit that I was envious of his loving family.

"I don't think he needs it as much," I told Arthur Kirkland.

"'Needs'?"

"He has a bunch of people who visit him almost everyday," I said. "And there's this Asian kid who brings his homework over and talks to him every weekend."

It was true and Arthur Kirkland knew it. Emil was always swamped by a bunch of people around his bed; although he always looked like he was annoyed and wanted to be alone, I thought that he must be really happy that so many people cared about him.

Arthur Kirkland looked at me with a funny expression. "Are you spending all your time here watching other people instead of your own brother?"

"There's really nothing much to do here except for watching other people coming and going," I explained myself, laughing. "Anyway, hope you like those cookies. My grandma made them."

I could see that Arthur was trying to hide his genuine gratitude as he said, "Well then, I will take these. Thank you very much and please thank your grandmother for me as well."

"No problem, dude."

I gave him a small wave and almost dashed towards Mattie, who was waiting for me to return with anticipation.

"How did it go?" he asked me hastily the moment I sat down on my chair.

"I think he likes me," I grinned.

"You and your oversized ego," Mattie snorted. But I just grinned at him.

* * *

><p>There was only one page left on my calendar. The streets reminded us all the Christmas was near. I went to the hospital as usual at 5pm, but this time I did not come for Mattie.<p>

I came for Arthur.

As I told him so, Mattie's arm recovered long before December which left all of his decorations to a waste. So Mattie suggested me to give them to Arthur instead. Of course, just like the Scrooge in the novel he liked so much, Arthur refused to take them.

"Give them to Emil," he told me again, like he did with everything I tried to give to him.

I shook my head. "He has an uncle named Tino who is practically Santa Claus himself."

I got to know more people in Mattie's old ward since they had already noticed that I came over even for no good reason at all. I got to know the other patient: Roderich Edelstein. Roderich was a professional pianist and although he was not a really approachable person, his wife was. She talked to me about his career and rambled on about their personal lives. I didn't mind; I liked talking to new people.

The fourth bed was emptied before I could get to know the patient. I thought that he was either cured or was moved away.

After getting to know him a bit better, I found that Arthur really was a weird person. He rarely laughed at all, and when he did, it was more like a cough than a proper laugh. He always looked like tomorrow would be the last day he would see daylight. Also, Alistair never came to visit him ever again, which made me even more curious about the entire situation.

But someone else visited out of of my expectation.

His name was Francis Bonnefoy. When he arrived, Arthur was already asleep as they gave him some sleeping pills after dinner to try to cure his occasional insomnia.

Francis was apparently one of those people who wouldn't even leave their houses if they weren't covered with the fanciest clothes. And he probably spent an hour curling his long, blond hair before coming here. But he seemed nice enough, and he even started talking to me first.

"Bonjour," he greeted me and gave me a wink. "Are you Arthur's friend?"

"Not quite," I answered. "Are you?"

"I'm more of an enemy to him, to be frank," Francis replied, laughing a bit. "We have been on each other's bad sides since the day we met."

Francis told me how him and Arthur fought over everything from a pen on sale to a pretty girl working at the flower shop across their boarding house "Arthur has always been a stubborn person," Francis said. "I knew he didn't like that girl at all; yet he is always trying to beat me at everything."

"What happened at last?"

"She became my wife," Francis said.

I told him how Mattie got in here and how I started noticing the lonely guy in the bed next to him. Francis was quite interested in my story because according to him, Arthur normally did not associate himself with complete strangers.

"Actually, there's something that is on my mind and I don't know who to ask…" I paused, still uncertain if this was a suitable question for me to ask. "Why is Arthur here?"

Francis sighed. "So you never knew."

"I never asked him, to be honest."

"I forgot the name of his sickness, but doctors said that he wouldn't live through to see Christmas this year."

This piece of information hit me like a thunderstorm. How could this be? I was having a hard time to believe that this person who I had only knew for two weeks was dying before my eyes. It almost seemed impossible, that this living, talking person would not witness the moment when the clock ticked and the year turned 2015. I must had looked so shocked, because Francis patted my shoulder with empathetical consolation.

"That's what he's facing right now," Francis said to me, looking at Arthur, who was sleeping soundly on the bed. It all seemed so peaceful, and the silence was never interrupted as Francis moved the hair that covered Arthur's closed eyes aside and kissed his forehead gently. He whispered something in French which I didn't understand.

"Please tell him that I will visit again," Francis told me.

"Mr. Bonnefoy," I said to him as he almost reached the door to the hallway.

He turned and asked, "Yes?"

"How do you deal with death?"

The spark in Francis's eyes disappeared as he looked at me with a sad smile on his face.

"When my wife Jeanne died, I went through the hardest times in my life," he said to me. "But even if they are dead it doesn't mean you don't love them anymore."

* * *

><p>It started snowing that night. It was just drops of whiteness, not a snowstorm that would cut down the traffic without warning. Luckily I listened to mom and wore my snow boots to college that morning, and she gave me an extra jacket and, strangely, a quilt.<p>

"Give the quilt to Mr. Kirkland," she told me. "I heard that they don't turn the heating on all the time to cut their budget. Oh, and I'll tell Matthew to bring some of our soup to him after his practice."

Mom was extremely supportive of my actions to my surprise. As a very Christmas-tsy person just like my dear brother, she believed that everyone was family and was actually proud of me for my 'selfless act'. I didn't want to break to her and admit that I was doing it for another reason.

Arthur Kirkland had become part of my routine. My schedule. My life.

The thirty minutes I spend beside him had become something that I _had_ to do everyday. And if I didn't, I would feel that something important was missing. And I didn't want to leave this piece out of my puzzle.

And Christmas was near. This was very possibly Arthur Kirkland's last Christmas.

We talked about trivial things; our schools (he attended Cambridge before, but it was not so surprising after knowing what kind of books he read), our family (Alistair turned out to be his brother and they always argued), our hobbies (he loved to read and write), and our dreams.

Dream was a big word to me, as I was always too young or too old to have one of my own. I remembered when I was in kindergarten I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up, but now I ended up studying engineering in NYU. I always thought that if I really put my heart into pursuing my childhood dream, would my life be any different from now.

"Dream job?" Arthur asked. I nodded. "Believe it or not, I used to dream of being a chaplain in my local church."

"A chaplain?"

"Mostly because of some stupid reason…my mother used to conduct the choir in the church and I loved their music. But, yes, that was once my dream," Arthur closed his eyes and said. "If I am to die before Christmas, I will really want to visit a church once more. I haven't been in one since I got sick."

"Don't say that," I said, but it was more to myself than him.

I didn't want to be reminded again and again that he would soon disappear in my everyday life.

He always seemed troubled, but that could not be blamed on him.

He was only twenty-three, it was all too much for him.

"Arthur," I took his cold hands in mine gloved with the colorful knittings my mother made for me. "I promise that you would see Christmas this year."

"Don't make promises that you can't keep, idiot."

I swore he blushed as he looked away from me.

* * *

><p>"The word is 'ranidaphobia', I told you like ten minutes ago and you didn't believe in me."<p>

"Shut up, you wanker!"

That was me and Arthur playing crossword puzzles on the last page of the newspaper.

To be honest, there wasn't really much to do around here. We cannot bring our phones in the room, and that meant no fun. But Arthur insisted that some 'traditional fun' can help pass time just fine. We often played hangman and word searches depending on what materials we had in our hands that day.

Arthur was a very knowledgable person, I had to give him that. He knew every emperor of the Roman Empire, and he could memorize the entire periodic table. But when it came to things like relationships and romance, I could tell that he knew absolutely nothing.

"I've never had a girlfriend before," he admitted.

"Are you serious?"

"I am. I have never really found anyone practically attractive," he told me.

"What about Jeanne?"

"She's just an exception."

"I can't believe it. I have to find you a girlfriend!"

"Please, just leave me alone."

Francis visited again the week after his first one. Arthur seemed to see him as his archenemy and they never stopped arguing from the moment the conversation started. They argued about their pass, their presence, and even their future, when Francis raised the request of inheriting Arthur's savings after his death.

"Are you really gonna donate it all to some charity?" Francis asked for the fifth time.

"I told you for at least a thousand times already; I'm not going to change my mind."

By putting bits and pieces together, I could almost work out that Alistair was trying to get Arthur to sign a will which said he would leave his wealth with the family. It was kind of sad, knowing that some people really do care about money more than family.

"We miss you, mon cher." At last Francis said before leaving.

"Me too, you frog," Arthur sighed and replied. I turned away when they hugged each other tightly.

No matter what they called their relationship, they were definitely best friends. And of course, worst enemies.

But then I noticed that people started leaving one by one.

Roderich Edelstein left the hospital ward one day. He was finally healthy enough to walk alone now, though his wife's assistance was still needed.

"Elisaveta, I'm perfectly fine on my own-" he said, trying to pull his arm away from his wife.

"Just stop arguing for once and hold my hand, my dear."

Along with their quarrels they left the hospital hand in hand. They really were a lovely couple; a match made in heaven, as Arthur once commented.

"At least they could have their Christmas meal together," said Arthur bitterly. To my knowledge, both of his parents passed away a long time ago, and all of his brothers lived in different places of the world.

It must had been really lonely to live like this.

Sometimes we would take a long walk in the garden of the hospital if Arthur wasn't really tired. Despite his nurses' objection of him going outdoors, he merely ignored them and left without permission. It was really cold, and even if Arthur was wearing his thickest coat along with my leather jacket, he was still shivering violently as snow fell on top of his head. But he insisted to stretch his legs because 'they were trying to get his legs paralyzed'.

"This could be the last time I see falling snow," he said, as he raised his hands to feel the snow as if he was embracing the freezing weather.

The talk about death still bothered me a lot, although I didn't want to admit it.

As Francis said, Arthur really was a stubborn person. He wouldn't sleep if he didn't want to, and he would - almost in a pleading manner - ask me to stay the night with him. He said that he felt a bit uneasy being the only one in the hospital ward, but I knew that he was only concealing his fear.

We heard from Emil's older brother that he didn't make it to the surgery room one night when everyone was asleep. He had a major heart attack and it killed him almost instantly. It was so unexpected and sudden, so they were having a very hard time accepting their loss. The doctors thought that his condition had stabled so they moved him to a regular ward, and everyone thought that he would eventually recover.

But he didn't.

The nurses tidied up his belongings and clothes and changed the sheets. All the evidences of his existence had vanished. I became the only visitor in this ward after the Steilssons took care of all of Emil's businesses.

"This is life," Mattie once said. "You see them today but it is never guaranteed that you will tomorrow."

It was almost like Emil Steilsson had never lived on this world. Everything that was related to him was gone. His cold attitude, his rarely seen smile, and his soft voice.

When Arthur stared at the empty bed in front of him, he said, "Is this what's going to happen to me it is my turn to go?"

"No," I told Arthur firmly, because I remembered how hard everyone cried when they heard the sad news. Even the nurses who took care of him shed tears.

They will live on in these people's hearts; no matter how cliche this sounds.

I knew that Arthur was terrified. Not necessarily of death, but of ignorance and forgotten memories.

"Who will cry for me when I leave?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know about everyone else," I said. "But I know I definitely will."

I would probably do more than crying when that day finally came.

Arthur fell asleep a few minutes later with his hand in mine. For the first time in a few weeks, he wasn't frowning as he breathed rhythmically.

* * *

><p>In the nineteen years of my life, this was the first time I had ever spent Christmas Eve in a hospital ward.<p>

"Just today," begged Arthur to his nurse as if he was a five year old asking for a piece of candy. "Just today and I promise I won't leave my room."

The nurse thought for awhile and said, "Fine, I suppose you can leave for just a few hours. But make sure you stick with Mr. Jones."

"Thank you," Arthur looked relieved.

I felt relieved for him, too.

He clung on to my arm as he stumbled towards the door, his steps still unsteady because of his weary body. I let him put his weight on me as we walked, knowing that it took him a lot of energy and effort to even walk an inch.

I opened the car door for him and he sat back on the soft chair, sighing and staring at the top of my car. I knew that he wished he was in his brother's car in London instead.

We drove through the busy streets of Manhattan; of course, there was a traffic jam, but luckily we still made it to Trinity Church before sunset.

The beautiful melody of a choir already covered all the noises of the city we were in. The snow was getting slightly bigger so I made Arthur put on my snow cap no matter how 'ridiculous' he thought it looked. I couldn't risk him catching a cold on such a special day.

Inside the church were at least a hundred people, lowering their heads as they listened to the children with white robes singing carols. Everything was so peaceful and quiet.

We sat at the last row of the church, and Arthur looked like he had reached his limits. "I'll just close my eyes for a while," he told me.

The church was old-fashioned, of course, and it had its fair share of history as well. It had been around for more than a hundred years, but its condition was well-kept. The prosperity it had a century ago remained until now, including the painted windows of portraits that was above the altar.

It was all beautiful in my eyes.

_Silent night, Holy night_

_All is calm, all is bright_

_Round yon virgin, mother and child_

_Holy infant, tender and mild_

_Sleep in heavenly peace,_

_Sleep in heavenly peace._

Arthur was still breathing; his chest was still moving up and down slightly as he closed his eyes and muttered the lyrics of the carols under his breath.

In between the choruses the chaplain would speak though his microphone. "_For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life_," he read from the Bible in his hands.

"I know this verse," Arthur whispered. His voice was so soft that it was hard to hear what he was saying.

_Silent night, Holy night_

_Son of God, love's pure light_

_Radiant beams from thy holy face_

_With the dawn of redeeming grace,_

_Jesus, Lord at thy birth_

_Jesus, Lord at thy birth._

Arthur was singing with the other people. He knew all the lyrics by heart, and he was singing from his heart as well. His voice was sore and he must had worn himself out by the time we arrived. It was almost a miracle that he managed to keep himself awake.

_Silent night, Holy night_

_Shepherds quake, at the sight_

_Glories stream from heaven above_

_Heavenly, hosts sing Hallelujah._

_Christ the Savior is born,_

_Christ the Savior is born._

"…remember the true meaning of Christmas. The service tonight ends here, goodnight."

The people who gathered in the church for night service left one by one, greeting each other 'Merry Christmas'.

But Arthur did not open his eyes.

"Arthur," I shook his shoulders gently. His head was leaning on his shoulder like a lifeless rag doll. "Arthur, wake up. It's time to go back."

He did not wake up.

"Why aren't you awake?" I asked. "Why aren't you answering? Wake up!"

He was silent.

"Okay, fine, I get it," I cracked a laughter. "You want me to carry you to the car, ha ha, how funny."

No reply.

"Arthur, get up on your feet and walk now. I'm serious."

Still no reply.

"I don't want to swear in front of Jesus, Arthur, please wake up!"

I was scared. More scared than I had ever been in my entire life. He did not open his eyes, his face was so pale, and I did not know what to do.

So I picked him up and carried him on my back. He was so light, almost as light as my cousin who was only nine. I made sure he was secured on my back, and walked as quickly as I could back in the snow.

The snow was thick on the ground which made it extra hard to walk on, but I bit my lips and held Arthur tight to me, taking larger steps on at a time.

"Already drunk?" A man on the street asked me jokingly. I didn't answer because I couldn't think. My brain was frozen since the moment Arthur went silent.

I put him in the back of my car and I inserted my car keys, starting the engine and driving back to the hospital as fast as possible. If I was only one bit faster, I would had had police cars going after me.

"Arthur?" I was shouting over and over again, looking back at Arthur whose eyes remained closed. "Arthur, please!"

He was not answering me. I just didn't get why. Why wasn't he talking?

_"Arthur, did you enjoy the service? I knew it was probably not as good as the one you had when you were younger, but I thought it was pretty good - American standard."_

My fingers tapped on the steering wheel impatiently, waiting for the lights to turn green again. There were so many people on the streets, doing last minutes shopping for Christmas. They looked so happy. I wanted Arthur to be one of them.

_"Hey, Arthur, I actually bought you something for Christmas. Remember the brand of scotch you told me about a few days later? I found some on eBay and figured that maybe we can drink some when the nurses aren't around. You know, just for celebrating Christmas."_

The Scottish wine bottle was in my bag. I was going to give it to him when we go back to his ward. Mattie was going to surprise him by bringing over a small Christmas Eve dinner over so we could eat together like a family.

_"Have I told you what happened last year during Christmas? Mattie got so drunk in a party that he actually agreed to go out with a random guy from his school named Gilbert who had always had a crush on him. And guess what, they are still going out. Don't you think this is funny, Arthur? It's funny how fate works sometimes."_

Sometimes I couldn't help but to be jealous at Mattie. He found someone that meant something special to him, but I had to lose mine right after I found him. This was so unfair.

_"Arthur, please don't go yet, I have so much things to tell you."_

I couldn't take it anymore.

"Arthur, I love you."

This time I said it out loud without hesitation.

* * *

><p>There he was, lying down on the bed with white sheets as if he was only sleeping. The machine beside him signaled his steady heartbeat and it was the only proof left that he was still alive and breathing.<p>

This would be the last time I saw him.

We had our Christmas meal in the room which was absolutely remarkable. Me and Mattie and Francis; we were the last ones who would stay beside him.

But I swore that I saw Alistair passing by the hallway, giving a last glance of the patient in coma.

It was all calm and peaceful, without a sense of death and sickness, the room was extraordinarily warm and cosy.

_Heavenly father_, _I rarely speak to you, and I am not even sure if this will be the last time I do so. But please, for Arthur Kirkland's sake, make sure he has a safe trip to the happier place everyone is talking about. For him, I am willing to believe in you because he does with all his heart._

He would soon be in a happier place, said everyone. But how could you be happy when everyone you love wasn't there?

_I will trust you to take good care of him because he never cared for himself as much as he did for others._

I was laughing and crying at the same time by the time we finished the scotch. I was pretty sure I wasn't drunk, but I'd rather be. Francis was crying so hard that he couldn't even drink another shot, and Mattie had to take off his glasses to wipe the tears away in his eyes.

_Father, I was lost but never found until tonight. I was always so bounded in my world, and I never accepted you in my world._

If Arthur could talk right now, he would probably use his usual vain tone to tell us to stop acting like little children. I already missed him so much I could die from the pain inside my heart.

_I have always been a coward. I have chosen to love him but the fear of losing him was greater than my love. But now he is gone, and I cannot rely on him anymore._

"For Arthur Kirkland, the man that doesn't have anything to do with me yet I'm spending Christmas with him instead of drinking with the girl who asked me out," Francis raised his cup. I toasted him although I knew he wasn't being serious.

_This is a route I have picked for myself, and I don't think that I have picked the wrong one, nor I will regret my choice. Please forgive my sin of not believing in you, Father. You have always guided me to do the right thing all along._

Through the sounds of laughing and crying, it would still be a silent night for Arthur Kirkland.

_In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**We are sorry if we ruined your Christmas with this story.**

**Anyway, have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!**

**Love,**

**The Two Fujoshis.**

**P.S. We will write happier stuff next year, we promise.**


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